


Air of December

by offpanel_archivist



Series: Martian Manlove [56]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-01
Updated: 2005-01-01
Packaged: 2019-08-20 18:59:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16561460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offpanel_archivist/pseuds/offpanel_archivist
Summary: The blended family finally does the holidays together.





	Air of December

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers: Characters and settings owned by DC Comics. They've been borrowed for fun, not for profit. The situation and plot belong to me.
> 
> Canon notes:
> 
> Part 1 - The idea that Gypsy has settled in Cairo came from MM #25. The choice of the "Rose Smith" alias is capricious and does not derive from canon beyond Gypsy's apparent reluctance to use her given name.
> 
> Part 2 - Batman moved Cassandra into an underground headquarters - the "Cassandra Cave" - in Batgirl #?? after she compromised her identity, potentially putting Oracle at risk.
> 
> Part 4 - Gypsy ran away from home at age 12 and was living on the streets when she finally made it to the Justice League. Her early experiences with the Justice League (first series, #233-36) were as a thief and a petty nuisance. Gypsy's on again, off again relationship with the Justice League was punctuated by stretches of poverty during which she sometimes returned to petty theft (e.g. JLTF #1).
> 
> Part 5 - J'onn's biweekly letters to Gypsy are mentioned in JLI #??.
> 
> Part 6 - Jim Gordon started his police career in Chicago (see The Long Halloween or Gordan of Gotham minis). Barbara Gordon is, canonically, Jim Gordon's adopted daughter, named after Jim's first wife. Young Barbara was adopted *after* the dissolution of Jim's first marriage. Jim's bad back and difficulty getting in and out of chairs is a remnant of his shooting in the Officer Down story arc. Sarah Essen, Jim's second wife, was killed by the Joker on New Year's Eve at the end of No Man's Land.
> 
> Part 7 - Tim Drake has repeated on multiple occasions that he does not want to be Robin forever, and definitely never wants to be Batman.
> 
> Part 8 - The Big Doof was introduced in MM #?? As one of J'onn's secret identities. Tempest's reserve status with the Titans is a direct result of issues that emerged in Atlantis in the aftermath of "All's Fair," which replaces canon's Obsidian Age in this 'verse. Gypsy's ability to mimic the form of a person sharing her approximate height and mass developed after the events of MM #12 (in which she was brought back from the dead by H'ronmeer) and were revealed in MM #25.
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> ***
> 
> Note from the offpanel archivist: this story was originally archived at Offpanel.net, which will be closing in November 2016. To preserve the archive, members began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in March 2016. Kerithwyn e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the offpanel.net collection profile.

## Air of December

### by Chicago

 

***************************

Air of December, part 1By Chicago

Disclaimers as usual.

The meeting area felt too bright against sandpaper raw eyes. Gypsy blinked a little as she emerged from the customs holding area, not quite able to process the rush of people, the squeals of greeting, the sudden stops and turns of people finding their loved ones and wearily committing themselves to their care. Christmas music blared over, under, around this human cacophony, making the whole experience more disorienting. She hitched her carry-on more securely on her shoulder and tightened her hold on the rolling bag she dragged behind her, pressing into the crowd with head down and shoulders half-lowered defensively.

A hand touched her elbow - not an inadvertent gesture, but almost steering. "Ms. Smith? Ms. Rose Smith?"

Gypsy looked up to stare into the eyes of a proper looking older man, taking a moment to remember the alias she was traveling under. She felt like she stared at him stupidly for a long time before she said, "Yes?"

The man's attentive expression relaxed into something less anxious, although still attentive. "I am Alfred Pennyworth; I work for Mr. Wayne. Mr. Wayne has asked me to apologize that he could not be here to meet you himself, but if you come with me?"

She nodded, and before she could object, he had lifted her suitcase and began a sure path through the crowded terminal. His quiet English accent was reassuring to her in the clash of too-loud American voices, a balm on nerves frayed from 40 hours of travel. She was more than happy to follow his lead, to not think for a moment.

Her daze was interrupted by an icy blast of air as they crossed through a pair of automatic sliding doors to the outside world. She gasped a little at the sudden cold, and Alfred glanced back at her. "Only across the walkway. I had hoped to be able to have the car waiting right there, but security concerns just keep increasing."

She nodded, her teeth already beginning to chatter. She was dressed for Cairo, not winter in Gotham. The light jacket she had did nothing against the wind, and even the relatively few feet to the parking area seemed to take an eternity to cross. But then they were at a limousine and Alfred had set down her suitcase to open the rear passenger door for her, tending to her before the luggage. She darted gratefully inside the car, residually warm from an earlier trip and at the very least, a place of shelter from the wind. She curled in her seat and shivered, drawing her feet up onto the seat to hug her knees, barely noticing the sound of the trunk opening and closing.

There was a faint gust of cold as Alfred got into the driver's seat, and she self-consciously uncoiled herself as she realized he was regarding her in the rearview mirror. "There are some sweaters in the compartment to your right," he told her kindly, "and there is fruit and water and other refreshments in the mini-fridge. Is there anything you would like to stop for on the way back to the Manor?"

Gypsy looked around the back of limousine, finally taking in what was around her. She was aware that the air around her was steadily warming; Alfred had turned on the engine, but she could barely feel the thrum of the car running, and then only if she thought to listen for it. She slid her arm free of her bag and settled it on the seat beside her, stretching a little and tired enough to cry for the sudden luxury. Five hours in the air, only to be diverted back to Frankfurt to wait out a blizzard that had closed down airports all over the eastern seaboard of the United States. Then the long seven hour flight after all that time listening to wheeled luggage rattle over the raised discs of the Frankfurt terminal floor, trying not to sleep to save the jet lag on the other end...

Alfred was waiting patiently, and Gypsy felt a hint of guilt. "Umm, no. I mean, I don't need to go anywhere. I just - um - I really just want to crash." She smiled apologetically toward the eyes in the mirror.

Alfred gave a faint smile. "I would imagine so. Very well, then, Ms. Smith."

The car began to slide slowly forward, to begin the winding path from the parking garage and out of the maze that was any airport. Gypsy leaned over to investigate the mini-fridge, her hand closing on a bottle of water as her eyes gazed hungrily on the oranges. They were precisely what she craved, but they'd be so sticky, and she already felt travel gummed enough.

Then her eyes fell on a collection of napkins and wetnaps. She almost laughed - what fantasy had she fallen into, that every wish seemed to be answered almost before she could think of it?

She took one of the oranges and grabbed a few napkins as she closed the door of the mini-fridge. Her parched throat welcomed almost a third of the bottle of water before she set to work on the orange peel.

Her nails pierced the heavy skin of the fruit, and the sweet scent of orange filled the air, making her mouth water. A hint of cold breeze stirred through the back of the limousine as Alfred paused to pay the parking attendant, and Gypsy felt every sense sharpened. Real food, real air, real water - and real heated leather, she appreciated, settling back in the seat with the first section of orange on her tongue.

A weird morbid streak prompted her to wonder if in fact her plane had crashed, and she was not in Gotham, but in heaven. She could easily imagine Alfred with a halo. The more sensible part of her mind wondered why she had resisted so many invitations to Gotham in the past year, even though she knew that soon the luxury would begin to chafe, and that she would awkwardly be trying to fit in with Bruce Wayne's family.

She pushed that worry from her mind, washing down another piece of orange with more water. She wasn't here to impress Bruce Wayne or anyone in his family. She was here for J'onn, and J'onn wouldn't let her be uncomfortable if he could help it.

The limousine wound finally onto the expressway, and Gypsy gazed out the window. Then she straightened, staring intently at the landscape.

The snow stood in huge banks on either side of the road, clumpy but still almost pristine white even at road's edge. Past the plowed area, a cemetery stretched for acres, only identifiable for the few tombs and tall monuments that jutted out from the thick blanket of snow. Conifers mixed among the graves were heavily weighed down, the snow heaping over a foot high on the barely visible green branches. "It really did snow a lot," Gypsy breathed.

"Yes," Alfred agreed, reminding her suddenly of his presence. "They only opened the roads this morning. It was the second storm of the season already - three and a half feet and not even Christmas yet."

"Wow. I haven't seen snow in years. Well, on mountains, but..."

"I quite understand, Ms. Smith," Alfred assured her.

Gypsy popped the last bit of orange into her mouth, dropped the peel into a trash receptacle, and switched over to the facing seats - the ones where she could lean her chin on the back and talk to Alfred more comfortably. She wiped her fingers and mouth with a wet nap before she settled onto her knees to do just that. "You don't have to call me Ms. Smith," she said. "You can call me Gypsy."

"As you wish, Miss Gypsy."

Gypsy laughed. "No no no - just Gypsy."

There was a meeting of eyes in the rearview mirror, with a hint of reproach from Alfred. He considered her in snatches as she sat there. "I will take it under advisement," he finally conceded.

"So does J'onn know I'm coming yet?"

"No," Alfred replied. "Mr. Wayne - Master Bruce has managed to keep it a surprise as far as I am aware. He had hoped to meet you and have you waiting when Master J'onn returned from duty last night, but then your flight was delayed and there was some issue that needed tending on the moon-"

"They're on a mission, huh?" She managed to keep the question casual, although a part of her missed being in the know.

"I suspect so, Miss Gypsy," Alfred acknowledged, and for a moment she wanted to kiss his cheek for his circumspection, for not lording his knowledge over her.

She lapsed into silence, staring forward through the windshield, taking in the winter wonderland aspect of the Gotham landscape. They were skirting the city, and she glanced across the river at the buildings surging into the sky, icing capped by snow with puffy streams of steam and smoke curling away from their roofs against the winter blue sky. Beautiful, she thought. Hard to remember that this was the city that was such a festering pit that the country had almost completely abandoned it at one point. That here was where Bats lurked and psychotic villains came to play.

She turned her head to rest her cheek on her folded arms and regard the man driving the car. "Alfred?"

"Yes, Miss Gypsy?"

"What do you think of them?"

He glanced at the mirror. "Who, Miss Gypsy?"

"Them. J'onn and -" She hesitated, not sure what to call Bruce Wayne. He'd invited her to call him Bruce before, but it still didn't seem quite right - like trying to call one of her old high school teachers by his or her first name as an adult.

There was a mild expression on Alfred's face. "Why, Miss Gypsy? What do you think of them?"

She sighed and stared back out the windshield. "I'm happy for them, I guess. J'onn seems happy - happier than he's been in a long time. And I don't really know Mr. Wa - Bruce - well enough to know what he's like, really. I mean, I've met more when he's - well, the scarier side -"

She bit her lip, wondering if she'd fumbled badly here. But J'onn had told her about Alfred, that he knew about Bruce, and everyone knew Batman was scary, and-

Alfred was smiling. "Yes, Master Bruce does have a way with his... persona. Although I can speak from my own knowledge of him that he is also happier than he has been."

Gypsy nodded. "I figured."

Alfred signaled a turn onto an off-ramp marked "Bristol." "You sound uncertain about that, Miss Gypsy."

Gypsy sighed. "I guess I kinda wished - well -" She trailed off, feeling embarrassed and wondering why she was sharing so much with this relative stranger, even if he was technically, weirdly family.

Alfred nodded his head sympathetically. "You wonder why you couldn't make him happy."

Gypsy glanced up sharply. "Wha-"

"It is natural enough," Alfred continued. "I know you think of Master J'onn as a father, and you share a bond closer than almost anyone else with him. I would imagine that Master Bruce seems to you sometimes like an interloper."

"Yes - I mean, no, not like -" She paused. "It's not that I don't want him to be happy-"

"I know. And I am certain he does, too. But it is hard, relinquishing some part of the affection that you felt was your sole privilege. We talk about the fact that love is infinite, and yet it is hard not to feel the rivalry."

"Have you ever felt that way?" She hadn't meant to ask it - jet lag, adrenaline energy was ruling her tongue.

The limousine pulled smoothly up to a set of wrought iron gates which slowly opened. "Yes," Alfred admitted. "Years ago."

"About Bruce?"

"Yes."

Gypsy studied the gentleman for a moment. "So when J'onn and Mr. - Bruce -?"

Another faint smile crossed his face. "When Master Bruce revealed his feelings for Master J'onn, I had already learned to share - and resigned myself to the truth that children will grow up and seek companionship and friendship in worlds and ways that their elders can watch but not replace."

"Oh." Gypsy thought about this for a moment, then gradually realized what she was seeing through the windshield. "That's where we're going?" she squeaked.

"Wayne Manor. I've prepared a room for you, or if you prefer to eat something-"

"I think I'm just going stare at it awhile," Gypsy declared as the limousine pulled in front of the main entrance way.

Alfred obligingly set the parking brake and busied himself bringing her luggage into the Manor before he finally came to fetch her and lead her wonderingly home.

end part 1

*******************************

Dick strode briskly to the front door of the Clocktower and hit the button marked Gordon, inspecting the sidewalk as he waited for her to answer. The snow removal service *had* done a good job, he conceded, carting off the feet of snow they had removed from the sidewalk, scouring the concrete clean of any patches that might ice up in the cold. Of course, for what they charged, they had better be the best - but it wasn't as if Dick was on hand to do the shoveling himself. He had been on stranded motorist and abandoned car detail.

"Hey, Dick, come on up," Barbara's weary voice came through the speaker, and the door buzzed.

Dick stepped into the lobby, removing his sunglasses but still forced to blink away lingering snow blindness. He skipped the elevator to dash up the stairs two at a time.

Barbara was waiting for him in her doorway, shaking her head as his partly winded form appeared. "I know you missed your morning run, but really, Dick-"

He grinned at her, leaning down to claim her lips and increase his pulse rate even more. Still he noticed how the lips against his were working with a desperate kind of quality, tired and hungry for contact.

Under his fingers, he could feel the pillow crease on her cheek and the lankness of her hair. He pulled back reluctantly. "I woke you, didn't I?"

She nodded slightly and ushered him into her apartment. "I think I was still running on adrenaline when I called you," she confessed. "I just thought I'd lie down for a few minutes before you came..."

"I've been there," he sympathized, settling on the couch and studying her face. He reached out to cradle her cheek and she turned her face to kiss his palm. "You wanna cancel brunch at the Manor? I'm sure Alfred would-"

"No, no," she said, pulling back with a hint of crossness. "I don't want to screw up for Bruce when he's thinking right for a change. He and J'onn won't be back until tomorrow, and someone should be making Gypsy feel welcome."

"She's arrived then?"

"Oh, I forgot! You were on duty when her flight came in and then things got so hectic-"

"Shh-" Dick interrupted, leaning in for another kiss. "You're exhausted."

Barbara slumped a little, her lack of protest betraying exactly how exhausted. "Yeah."

He smiled gently. "You're right about Gypsy, but you need sleep. How about this? I'll go on and make your apologies. How soon will J'onn and Bruce be back?"

"On planet? Five or six hours."

Dick gave her a suspicious look. "On planet," he repeated flatly.

Barbara threw up her hands. "J'onn wants to go Christmas shopping in Metropolis. And Bruce doesn't want to give away the surprise, so-"

"They're going straight to Metropolis. Great. Okay, so I'll go have brunch with them while you nap, and I'll bring Gypsy back down here for the afternoon for some shopping - except I'm going to have to go on duty at 4."

Barbara gave an exasperated sigh. "Dammit! Why can't alien warlords intent on destroying the Earth wait until after the damned holidays!?"

A moment of silence reigned, and then both Dick and Babs began laughing uproariously. Neither noticed a slim figure sneak in through a window until a voice asked, "What's so funny?"

In an instant, Dick was on his feet in a defensive stance and Babs had her escrima sticks out. Then both relaxed. "Geez, Cass," Dick complained, returning to the couch.

Cassandra shrugged fluidly and perched on the arm of an easy chair. "You laugh too much to hear me. What's so funny?"

Barbara shook her head and gestured widely. "Life. The universe. Everything. What's up, Cassandra?"

The teen shrugged and pulled her knees up to her chest, somehow maintaining her balance on the chair arm as she did so. "Christmas music too loud on street. Can't sleep."

"Too loud? Can't you seal off the cave, soundproof it?" Dick puzzled.

"Still need to breathe," Cassandra pointed out, resting her chin on her knees as she wrapped her arms around her legs.

Dick slapped his forehead. "Of course. Breathing. Silly me. Why haven't you told Bruce you don't want to live there anymore?"

Cassandra scowled at him. "I *like* cave. Just too noisy right now."

"Don't argue with her, Dick," Barbara advised. "You won't win." Her voice sounded heavy with experience.

"Still, it wouldn't put Bruce out to set you up with an apartment somewhere or-"

"Don't *want* apartment!" Cassandra spat vehemently, causing Dick to recoil slightly.

"Oookay." He looked at Barbara. "She doesn't want an apartment."

Barbara rested her chin on her hand. "I know. We've been through this. Although -"

Cassandra tilted her head curiously, and Dick asked, "What are you thinking?"

"This could solve our problem, actually. Have you eaten yet?" she asked Cassandra.

The teenager scowled, and Dick reflected that she was getting more rather than less teen like as she got older. "Time for sleeping," Cassandra said pointedly.

"Right," Barbara acknowledged with the kind of resigned patience that reminded Dick how much time the two women spent together. "Well, that's good, then, because you can have brunch at the Manor with Dick and -"

Cassandra had straightened into attention on her perch. "Alfred brunch?"

"No, they're letting Dick cook," Barbara shot back.

"Hey! I can cook!"

"Yes, dear, we know," Barbara replied. "But then you can just let Cassandra stay at the Manor for the next few days. It'll give Gypsy some company and avoid the loud Christmas music problem."

Cassandra jumped up from the chair. "Good plan." She grabbed Dick by the elbow. "Let's go."

"Cass!" Dick objected.

"I'm hungry," Cassandra urged.

Dick ignored her. "Are you sure, Babs? I was kinda hoping we could spend some time together-"

Barbara smiled. "I know, sweetheart. But I need to catch some sleep or I won't be any good to anyone. And besides - wait. Did you get your schedule yet?"

"I emailed it to you," he said, "but it looks like Christmas Eve at your dad's is a go."

"Okay, then." She caught his sleeve, drawing him down for a final kiss. "I'll see you Christmas Eve, and," she added, dropping her voice to a purr, "we can spend the night here unwrapping presents."

Dick grinned and gave her a last peck on the cheek, turning to Cassandra. "Okay, Miss Impatience-"

"I patient. You slow."

"Fine. Sleep well, Babs."

"I will. Bye, guys."

Dick smiled to himself as he closed the door behind them and heard the locks snick back into place. Cassandra was already well ahead of him, eager to be gone. It was like a bad cliche, juggling family obligations for the holidays, trying to find even a moment to breathe - and despite the aggravation, he was loving every minute of it.

end part 2

*****************************

"This one," Alana decided, grabbing hold of Bruce's hand and pulling him through the bustling sidewalk traffic into an elegant boutique. Bruce smiled fondly, half bewildered at the enthusiasm with which J'onn had plunged into the Christmas madness of Metropolis. He had made his way alone into the crowds the previous evening, insisting that Bruce sleep, but at 6 am, a bright eyed Alana had hauled Bruce from bed to join her in the quest for the last few presents.

Now the objective was clearly a dress for Gypsy, and Bruce was having to work to keep from thinking about J'onn's expression when he discovered that he would be able to deliver the gift in person at the Manor. Thus far, J'onn had shown no sign that he knew about the surprise - had in fact over breakfast been trying to decide when he should leave for Egypt in the overnight hours.

The sales staff at the little boutique were decidedly overworked - no one noticed the entrance of Gotham's favorite son.

"You're not in Gotham," Alana tiptoed to whisper to him, planting a light kiss on his cheek.

"Reading my thoughts again," Bruce rumbled, amused.

Alana snorted. "Projecting a little peeved rich boy again," she teased. "C'mon."

Alana lead Bruce to a wall rack, her eyes obviously caught by a display which raised Bruce's eyebrow. "That's a little -"

Alana had already plucked out the appropriate size of dress, and she gave Bruce a surprised look. "A little-?" she prompted.

Bruce shifted. "Well, there's not much there, is there?"

Alana lifted the dress to inspect the panels of mesh and the strategic appliqués. "You don't think she'll like it?"

"You'd know better than I would," Bruce confessed, "but - are you sure you want her wearing that?"

"There's something wrong with it? It seems like the right the style for the Cairo clubs."

"*That?*"

"Bruce, you're going to have to explain."

"It's just - I know I wouldn't want Cassandra running around in something like that."

"Well, of course not," Alana said matter of factly. "Cassandra wouldn't want to wear something like this. It's not black."

Bruce studied Alana's face, trying to decide if he was witnessing a moment of Martian obliviousness or he was showing his age. "Kids are really wearing stuff that... revealing?"

"Well, Gypsy's not exactly a kid, and - Bruce? Am I missing something really obvious?"

Ah, Martian obliviousness. Bruce caught Alana by the arm and steered her toward the dressing rooms at the back of the store. "Miss?" he said to the attendant.

"Hold on- OH!" The young woman's eyes went wide. "Bruce Wayne?" she squeaked.

Bruce smiled reassuringly. "My friend just wanted to try on this dress."

"Of course, right this way," the attendant hastened, leading them past the line for the crowded dressing area to a half-hidden door. "I'm so sorry we didn't see you. It's just been so busy and -"

"That's quite all right," Bruce forgave, watching as Alana's eyes widened at the dressing studio they were led to. *So I can still surprise you?* he teased mentally.

*You have to ask?* J'onn sent back as Alana's hand tightened on his arm.

"I hope this is okay," the attendant was rambling, and Bruce just smiled more pleasantly.

"Perfect. You don't mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?"

The attendant glanced at Alana as if noticing her for the first time and blushed faintly. "Um, of course not. I mean-- um... just come out when you're done."

Bruce watched the attendant back out, then looked down at Alana's faintly disapproving face. "That's not going to help your efforts to convince the press that Alana is just a friend."

"Go try on the dress," Bruce ordered.

"But it's not for me-"

"Just do it."

Alana stared into his eyes for a long moment, then shrugged. "Incomprehensible," she muttered as she slipped back behind a screen.

"I thought that was part of what you loved about humans," Bruce threw back, settling into the "boyfriend" chair.

"Part of what keeps me humble in face of the mysteries of the universe," Alana corrected. "I don't know if that counts as love."

"You wound me."

"Yes, I know, I am so-" Alana stepped out from the screen, her words trailing off as she felt Bruce's eyes on her. A blush darkened her skin endearingly as she caught Bruce's untempered reaction to the way the dress draped on her form. "Oh," she said.

Bruce stood and crossed to his lover, leaning down to kiss her hungrily. He stepped back and smiled at her flushed and flustered expression. "Like I said, don't you think it's kind of revealing?"

Alana brought a hand to her cheek and dropped her eyes. "Um, yeah, maybe."

Bruce hugged Alana to him. "You don't have to put her in frumpy clothes, but maybe a little more conservative," he suggested, running his hands over the barely there fabric that draped over Alana's backside. "Although I think maybe I like how this looks on you," he murmured.

A hand brushed across the front of his trousers. "I noticed. But I still need to find something for Gypsy."

Bruce withdrew with a sigh. "Okay. And then?"

Alana smiled, a hint of wickedness replacing her earlier embarrassment. Her eyes traveled pointedly over his body. "And then you can take me home."

Bruce grinned and returned to the boyfriend chair, deciding Christmas shopping wasn't such a bad way to spend his time.

end part 3

*******************************

A flutter of motion caught from the corner of his eye prompted Alfred to turn, and he had to work to keep a smile from his face. "Miss Gypsy," he said to the apparently empty air, "please do use a plate if you intend to take those cookies from the kitchen.

The air shimmered slightly, and then Gypsy stood there, expression caught between defiance and shame. Alfred sympathized; she was not truly the culprit here. "Miss Cassandra," he said without turning, "do not disturb my oven."

In contrast to Gypsy, Cassandra slid out from behind Alfred with a triumphant expression on her face. "See?" she said to Gypsy, but the other young woman only continued to stare at Alfred, looking more than anything like a child awaiting punishment.

Alfred turned to the cupboard to pull down two glasses. "Dare I ask, Miss Cassandra, what you were trying to demonstrate for our guest?"

Cassandra had already plopped down into a chair at the table, claiming a still-warm cookie. "You know," she determined. "Sit down," she ordered Gypsy. "Alfred not mad."

Alfred collected a gallon of milk from the refrigerator and filled the glasses. Returning the milk to its place, he raised an eyebrow at Cassandra. "Indeed," he stated. "One develops a sixth sense for stealth tactics after several decades."

Cassandra smirked, and Gypsy looked uncertainly at Alfred's face as the older man set down the glasses of milk in front of the two girls. "Please, do have a seat, Miss Gypsy. This would be far from the first case of invisible cookie snatching this house has seen."

"J'onn not steal cookies," Cassandra objected.

"You are right, Miss Cassandra," Alfred agreed, noting with approval that Gypsy had finally taken a seat. "But only because it is rather difficult to steal something that was procured expressly for you." He directed this last toward Gypsy with a kindly smile.

"It was just a dare," Gypsy offered, clearly feeling the need to explain herself. Likely worried, Alfred imagined from what he knew of the young woman, that she was showing herself as the sneak-thief she had been known as in her youth.

"It seems to me Master Tim has offered that explanation as well when Miss Cassandra has persuaded him to mischief," Alfred remarked, turning sternly to Cassandra. He wasn't angry at her - not truly. It had been something of a relief to see a playfulness emerging in this too serious teenager, and he was beginning to suspect there was something more behind the teasing routine she had developed toward Alfred.

"I'm good influence on Tim," Cassandra defended, still grinning. "Dick says so."

"And we all know how good Master Dick's judgment is," Alfred remarked dryly, aware that Gypsy was watching this exchange wide eyed. It was clear that the young woman had felt intimidated by Alfred, by the Manor, uncertain of how to behave. Until Dick had brought Cassandra, Gypsy had practically been creeping around, staying wherever Alfred installed her until he came to direct her to come eat or go sleep.

"He's smart enough to date Barbara," Cassandra pointed out, snagging another cookie.

A corner of Alfred's mouth quirked upward. "A point well taken, Miss Cassandra."

"So it's okay if me and Gypsy spar in Cave, right?"

Alfred blinked and glanced at Gypsy, who sat frozen in her seat. "Miss Cassandra, non sequitur aside -"

"Non sequenc-?" Cassandra interrupted, and Alfred had to fight back another smile. He wondered sometimes if she were being manipulative, drawing the teacher out of the butler to flatter him into giving in on some request. Still, her desire to learn, her willingness to pause other business to answer a question managed to charm him.

"Non sequitur," he corrected.

"It does not follow, right?" Gypsy put in. "From Latin?"

Now Alfred did allow a pleased smile to cross his face. "You know Latin?"

Gypsy shrugged uncomfortably. "Only a little bit. J'onn taught me some when I was - that is -"

Cassandra patted Gypsy's wrist reassuringly. "J'onn a good teacher."

Gypsy nodded, and Alfred remembered that she had been a run away, living on the streets. Suddenly the instant and unexpected connection between Gypsy and Cassandra made sense, the challenges facing young girls on their own, the experiences of a superhero lifestyle. Even across the four or so years that separated them, that shared background must be something of a relief to both of them.

"Well, you're quite right," Alfred said briskly. "It does translate to it does not follow. So when someone interjects a statement or question out of blue into a conversation-"

"A non sequintor," Cassandra pronounced.

"Sequitur," Alfred corrected. "And do bear in mind that we'll be having a late luncheon at 3:00. I'll expect you both presentable for table."

Cassandra nodded. "Bruce and J'onn back then?"

"They plan to arrive around two," Alfred confirmed, noticing the way Gypsy's face seemed to light up at this news. "I believe Master Dick and Miss Barbara have plans at her father's for the evening, and Master Tim will be obliged to his family, so it will be up to you two to keep up the festive air."

Cassandra took a final gulp of milk and grinned. "Cool. C'mon, Gypsy."

"That means no black eyes," Alfred called after their retreating backs.

He shook his head as Cassandra's answering laughter came back. They said the holiday season was for children, but, he reflected as he returned to his baking, it seemed to him it was for old men defending cookies and seeing too rare joy in the eyes of their juniors.

end part 4

******************************

"Is this okay?" Gypsy asked, standing in the doorway to the room Cassandra had claimed.

Cassandra turned and studied the other woman's skirt and blouse combination. "Alfred approve," she decided, "but get hair out of your face." She gestured Gypsy into the room to sit at the vanity.

"I know," Gypsy sighed, taking the suggested seat. "It's in that growing out stage. I can't wait until it's long enough to pull back like yours."

Cassandra selected a barrette from a case on the vanity and began brushing back the sides of Gypsy's hair. "Curls take longer to grow," Cassandra pointed out.

"Tell me about it. Sometimes I'm just tempted to hack it all off again."

Cassandra secured the barrette and considered Gypsy critically. "It make you look older," she said.

"Yeah, maybe," Gypsy conceded. "Thanks."

"Sure," Cassandra acknowledged, flopping back onto the bed. She brushed at imaginary lint on the black velvet swing pants that Alfred had finally allowed she could wear for meals that weren't dinner.

"How did you get used to this?" Gypsy asked.

Cassandra glanced up, startled. "Get used to what?"

Gypsy gestured around her. "This. This house. Alfred."

Cassandra smiled, hiding a hint of ruefulness. "Easy. I don't live here."

"You don't?"

"No. Have cave."

Gypsy blinked. "You live downstairs?"

"No. My own cave. Downtown."

"But still, you seem so comfortable here. Isn't it weird, having someone waiting on you? Especially after-"

Cassandra gave Gypsy a patient look. "It's about teamwork," she explained. "Alfred is part of team. He does hardest job, really. And he's proud, so it's hard to help. He thinks he should not need help for his duties. That if we all do our jobs then it works like a well oiled machine." Cassandra smiled again. "Only problem is he works when we rest."

Gypsy nodded slowly. "I miss being in a team."

Cassandra felt a wash of sympathy. She had learned enough about Gypsy by now to know that she, like Cassandra, had no family left save whatever team she was with. And although J'onn had stepped into her life much as Bruce had done for Cassandra, it seemed like Gypsy had more of Dick's independent streak. And actually, even Bruce did not try to keep up with J'onn. He never stayed in one place long enough to offer a stable home; not because he didn't care for Gypsy, but because he cared for so many others as well.

It had been interesting to listen to Gypsy talk about J'onn, about the letters that arrived every two weeks no matter what - save for that one stretch a year and a half ago that had prompted her to track him to Denver. It was different kind of family than Bruce crafted, Cassandra realized - looser, requiring less constant presence. But still important. She felt a hint of pride in Bruce that he had realized that.

Cassandra glanced at the clock and then went to the window. Prompt as always, the Bentley was rolling up between the walls of snow that framed the driveway. "They're coming," she told Gypsy. "Let's go."

She was to the head of the stairs before she realized Gypsy was not behind her. She retraced her steps. "Don't be a non sequitur," she lectured.

Gypsy blinked and laughed, although there was a brittle edge to it. "I just lost a button," she explained, holding the edges of her collar in her hands.

"Oh!" Cassandra crossed to the vanity and opened a side drawer. "Well, take it off so I can fix it," she ordered, pulling out a needle and cream colored thread. "You see where the button went?" She swiftly threaded the needle.

Half out of her blouse, Gypsy suddenly ducked down to pluck the button from the thick carpet. "Here."

Cassandra accepted it and then the blouse and Gypsy went to the window to peek out. "The car's pulling up," she said nervously.

Cassandra worked hastily. "We'll beat them," she stated confidently.

"Alfred's getting out."

"Done! Just let me knot it... Here!"

Gypsy snatched the proffered blouse from Cassandra's hand, pulling it on and fumbling with the buttons. Cassandra stowed the needle and thread.

"Now?" Gypsy asked, smoothing her blouse.

"Perfect," Cassandra declared, glancing out to see Bruce and Alana and Alfred mounting the Manor stairs. "Race ya!"

She grabbed Gypsy's hand and pulled her along into the hall, and both women were laughing as Gypsy followed Cassandra's lead and launched herself down the banister. Cassandra had to half catch her as she vaulted herself past the newel post, and both were breathless as they straightened.

"HA!" Cassandra cried. "Dick thinks he's the only one who can do that."

"Ahem."

Gypsy's face paled and Cassandra squeezed her hand and gave her a wink. "Alfred," she began as she turned, only then remembering the source of their hurry in the first place.

Alfred had stepped to one side and had crossed his arms over his chest in an appropriate display of displeasure. But his eyes were sparkling, and his attention was half focused not on Gypsy and Cassandra, but on the couple still frozen in the doorframe.

Alana had brought her hand to her mouth, staring past Cassandra in raw surprise. "Gypsy?" she whispered.

Gypsy stepped forward, dropping her hands to her side and smiling tentatively. "Merry Christmas, J'onn."

Almost faster than she could track, Alana had disappeared, and the Martian Manhunter had swept Gypsy into his arms in an unreserved embrace. Cassandra beamed, close enough to hear Gypsy reveal that Bruce had arranged this moment, alert enough to see that Bruce had swiftly closed the front door of the Manor and now stood smiling at J'onn and his surrogate daughter. For a moment, Bruce's eyes caught hers, and she read approval in his glance. Alfred busied himself putting Bruce's coat away, passing near Cassandra as he crossed to the closet.

"Well done," he murmured as he walked by.

Cassandra's heart gave a little skip, and she decided that despite the loud sidewalk music, she really did like Christmas.

end part 5

*******************************

Barbara cleared the almost too narrow elevator doors and wheeled around to reach a hand to the door, holding it for Dick. He peered over the stack of parcels in his arms, moving carefully so as not to upset the carefully balanced pile. "Thanks, Babs."

"De nada," she replied, letting the doors go closed behind them and retaking the lead down the hall to her father's condo. The fragrance of apples and cinamon permeated the air, and she breathed deeply. "Mulled cider," she commented as she knocked on the door.

"It smells wonderful," Dick acknowledged.

"Hi, Baby," Jim Gordon greeted his daughter, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Come on in. Hey, Dick."

"Mr. Gordon," Dick nodded, following Barbara through the door.

"The tree's set up in the family room," Jim directed, then smiled down at Barbara. "You made pie!"

She smiled back at him, holding out both the pie and the tupperware of cookies that had occupied her lap on the trip up. "And Christmas cookies," she informed him. She hadn't intended to be so industrious, but when Dick called to say he had pulled an extra shift? The relative quiet of the Oracle lines and the restless need to do something had prompted her to fire up the oven.

"This is great," Jim enthused, setting the offered goodies on the sideboard for a moment. "Let me take your coat. Yours, too, Dick," he added as Dick reentered sans presents.

Both Dick and Barbara complied.

"You two just go into the family room," Jim called back to them from the closet. "Can I bring you anything to drink?"

"That cider you're mulling would be great if it's ready," Dick requested, and Barbara gave a little smile. Her father was inordinately proud of his cider recipe.

"Make that two," she said. "You sure you don't need-"

"No, no," Jim fussed, shooing them toward the living room as he crossed back toward the kitchen. "Go sit by the fire and listen to some Christmas music. I'll be in a minute."

The young couple obeyed, Dick settling into the deep sofa and Barbara parking her chair by his side. A heavy sigh escaped Dick. "This feels nice," he said.

Barbara twisted her torso to lean toward his cheek and give him a quick kiss. "Poor baby," she murmured sympathetically. Then her eyes were caught by the view through the sliding glass door onto her father's rooftop garden. "Is it snowing again?" she asked incredulously.

Dick straightened up and squinted toward the doors. "Sure looks like it."

"What's that?" Jim asked, handing a mug to Barbara and then carefully shifting one of two mugs in his right hand to his left in order to hand it to Dick.

"Thanks," Dick said. "We were just saying it looks like it's snowing."

Jim turned toward the doors, then walked closer to them to inspect the night free from the glare of the low light of the room and the glittering bulbs from the tree. 'It is," Jim announced.

"That's just incredible," Barbara remarked. "I don't think I've ever seen this much snow by Christmas. And it just keeps coming."

"Nothing like one year we had in Chicago," Jim noted, returning to the cozy array of furniture around the fireplace and settling into a straightback chair. "It was right after Barbara and I had gotten married and we had this dinky apartment near Back of the Yards. Landlord never did shovel the steps - we just slid down them. I don't think all the ice thawed off them until June."

"Dad, why don't you sit on the couch? It'd be more comfortable," Barbara suggested, eager to get away from the subject of her father's first wife.

The attempt backfired. "Too hard to get up from there with my back if I've got stuff to do," he pointed out matter-of-factly. "Dinner'll be ready in less than a half hour."

"This cider hits the spot," Dick commented, steering the conversation to easier territory. "Do you share your recipe?"

"It's nothing really," Jim averred, although his face wore a pleased expression. "Just an old family thing."

"It's perfect," Dick declared. "Just the thing to warm up on a cold winter's day."

Jim nodded. "I take it you had to work?"

"Christmas double," Dick confirmed. "You know how it is."

"Yeah. One thing I don't miss. You gotta go back tomorrow?"

"4 o'clock."

"PM, I hope."

"Yeah."

The sound of pinging from the kitchen brought Jim to his feet. "Dinner's just about ready," he announced.

Dick started to rise. "Can I-"

"No, no - keep Barb company. You kids should relax."

Dick hesitated, and Barbara put a reassuring hand on his. It wasn't going quite swimmingly, but it wasn't going too poorly for a first Christmas. At least her father had resisted the urge to comment on the Bludhaven PD. "You're doing great," she said encouragingly.

He gave her a wan smile, and his exhaustion surfaced in his eyes for a moment. Then he cocked his head slightly as the music playing softly through the speakers changed. His expression become slightly misty. "This was my mom's favorite Christmas carol," he told her.

Barbara listened for a moment, long enough to identify the strains of "O Holy Night." "It's a good one."

"She always said it was one of the few that seemed big enough for the occasion," he remembered. "She believed in showmanship."

A corner of Barbara's mouth quirked. "So that's where you get it from."

Dick chuckled ruefully. "Comes from both sides, actually." His gaze drifted to the fireplace. "It's nice, to have the fire going."

Barbara nodded, watching the way wistfulness played across his features, his emotions relatively unshielded in his weariness. "Dad burns a yule log every year."

"We used to - me and Bruce and Alfred. Then we didn't celebrate for a while, and now..."

"Now there are other compensations," Barbara reminded him gently, not wanting him to get maudlin. Not that she really thought he would, but the holidays were hard enough for all of them.

He refocused his eyes on her and forced a little chuckle. "Yep. More greenery."

"Ugh," she groaned, snatching a pillow from the easy chair beside her and swatting him over the head with it. "You and your puns."

"You love them and you know it."

"Dream on, Dickie-boy," she snorted, then laughed at his theatrically hurt expression and leaned in to kiss him. He returned the kiss with interest until an "ahem" sounded behind them.

Dick jerked back, his face flaming in a rare blush, and Barbara laughed. "Daddy, don't do that to him."

Over Jim Gordon's stern expression, his eyes were dancing, and his voice countered both emotions with plain civility. "Dinner's ready," he announced. Then he added with a smirk, "If you two can part long enough to get to the table."

Dick rose to his feet, looking flustered, then surprised as Jim gave him a wink. Barbara saw the wink and hid her smile. It was a good sign.

Dinner was pleasant if not fancy; lamb and mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables and rolls, followed by Barbara's pie and egg nog back in the living room. The conversation turned to Jim's Christmas day flight to Florida, where he would visit some old friends and then tour the Keys, filling the hours, he didn't say, that led to the anniversary of Sarah's death. Avoiding that landmine carried them to cop stories, and when it looked like jurisdictional loyalties were threatened, Barbara filled in with weird discoveries in the archive and odd library requests.

Present opening relieved them of the pressure of finding safer topics of conversation, and they all finally relaxed as they appreciated books and sweaters and hand tools and the usual assortment of stocking stuffers. The wrapping paper was fed into the fireplace, changing the color of the flames to green and red and orange and blue in a pattern it took them some time to discern. Barbara and Dick speculated on the chemical components of the dyes in the papers, trying to analyze the combustion, and Barbara saw Jim studying Dick speculatively as he held up his end of the conversation. He did not dislike Dick, she knew, but he was paternally protective of her, worried for Dick's lack of a college degree and his job in 'that armpit.' So Dick's unsuspected knowledge of chemistry surprised her father. Good, she decided.

By the time Jim proposed watching some Christmas classics on TV, the mood was comfortable enough that Dick and Barbara agreed, happy to keep the evening going.

They eschewed "It's a Wonderful Life" for lighter fare, settling on "A Christmas Story." "The father kinda reminds me of you," Barbara remarked mischievously.

They laughed easily through the movie, until halfway through, Barbara felt Jim nudge her arm. She followed his gesture and saw that Dick had fallen asleep in the easy chair that he had claimed in the den.

"His double was 20 hours," Barbara explained in a near whisper, although louder tones would likely not have woken him.

"And on the beat the whole time I bet," Jim grunted, disapproval dripping from his tone. "That damned embarrassment they call a department-"

"Daddy," Barbara pleaded.

Jim met her eyes, and his expression softened. "I know, Barb." He glanced back at the sleeping man and sighed. "It just reminds me too much of me, back in the day."

Barbara touched his hand and looked at him enquiringly.

"I slept like that more nights than I can count. Barbara complained I was more married to the job than her." His voice was distant in memory. "She just couldn't see that the city needed good cops - or that's what I told myself. Chicago needed me, and then I needed Gotham, to make up for my failure..."

"Dad-"

"Barbara," he forestalled. "I like your young man. I do. But sometimes I worry you found someone a bit too much like me, and I wasn't much of a husband."

"Oh, Daddy-" It took some doing, but she was able to turn in her chair enough to put her arms around his neck. There were no words to reassure, so she just hugged him as he stroked her hair and stared at the TV.

After a few moments, Barbara released him and returned to watching the movie, but she wasn't really seeing the action on the screen. She was thinking about Christmases past and future and how lucky she was to share this one with two men she loved so much.

end part 6

****************************

"What's with the fruit?" Dick asked as Tim hopped into the backseat of Barbara's Humvee.

Tim grimaced at the large fruit basket he had set on the seat beside him as he strapped in. "Dana's idea. Bruce falls into her category of 'needs something more than a Christmas card, but less than a truly personal gift.'" Of course, Tim reflected, his father probably should have Bruce on a list of 'guys I owe my life to, not to mention my kid's life,' but that was before Dana's time.

"Hence fruit?" Barbara asked, pulling the car out into the quiet morning street.

Tim shrugged. "At least I convinced her to go with a basket and not subscribe to fruit of the month or something. Can you imagine Alfred getting this month's selection of pears in the mail?"

Dick grinned. "That's a picture. Any hassles getting permission to come out today?"

A snort greeted Dick's query. "Dad was done with Christmas at 9 o'clock. He'll be testing out his new indoor putting green for hours. He and Dana had plans to attend some afternoon thing anyway, so it's no big deal." Really, it wasn't, Tim persuaded himself, wondering what made him think this Christmas would be any different.

Dick seemed to read the unspoken disappointment, which he answered with almost artificial cheer. "Well, that's good for us. It wouldn't feel like Christmas at the Manor without you, bro."

Tim smiled at that, cracking back, "Why, 'cuz no one else will talk hockey with you?"

"J'onn might, but that'd be weird."

Barbara chuckled. "I bet he'd tell you that he used to play in the Canadian League for a couple of seasons some 40 years back."

"So J'onn's there already?"

"Where else would he be?"

Tim shot Dick a withering look. "Duh. I meant he knows about the surprise."

"Oh, right! He must, unless Alfred hid Gypsy down in the Cave or something. Babs?"

Barbara glanced over her shoulder as she changed lanes, raking Tim with a little smile as she turned her eyes back to the road. "Nope, no Cave hiding. Cass stopped by after you crashed, said J'onn was thrilled. Sounds like they had a nice Christmas Eve."

"So the plan worked, then."

"Judging from the fact that there was no Batman on patrol last night? I'd say that's a big yes," Barbara remarked, and Tim saw her cast a twinkling eyed look toward Dick.

"Babs," Dick protested weakly, and Tim smirked as he watched the passing buildings. He shared Barbara's amusement at Dick's squeamishness about Bruce's sex life, which had suddenly manifest when Bruce and J'onn got together. For a while it made Tim uncomfortable, as if it were a slam against J'onn, until Tim realized that J'onn seemed to enjoy getting in on the act. When Tim asked, J'onn had smiled and said something about being accepted as a parent. It was weird, but it made sense.

"So'd you finish all those college applications?" Dick asked, turning in his seat to talk to Tim.

"Finally," Tim confirmed, returning his attention to Dick. "It helped to have the time off patrol the last couple weeks. Although I felt like such a fraud on all the applications. They'd have these questions like 'Describe an event that changed your life,' or 'Discuss how you feel you have contributed to your community.' I was making shit up to tame *down* my life."

A look of sympathy crossed Dick's face. "I applied to Hudson U. because they didn't have any stupid essays," he confessed. "Not that I was ever really cut out for the college life."

"Dick couldn't figure out why they wouldn't accept random superhero knowledge as a major," Barbara commented.

"School always made me edgy. All that sitting still."

Barbara snorted as she signaled her merge onto the Bristol onramp. "Because god knows you've never had to do that in your life."

"That's different," Dick protested. "There's a *reason* then. I mean, some of the stuff in school was interesting, but I never could figure out why we were doing half of it."

Barbara gave an exaggerated sigh and met Tim's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Just my luck to hook up with a raw pragmatist."

Tim gave Barbara a half-hearted smile. "Heh. Yeah. Sometimes I kinda wish I were more like that."

Dick, who had turned forward during his exchange with Barbara, now twisted back again, his face concerned. "Hey, don't say stuff like that," he said seriously. "You've got the smarts to do well in college. And you want to go, right?"

Tim turned his eyes back out to the increasingly suburban landscape off the expressway. "Yeah, I do," he admitted. "They've got this program at Gotham U, and intensive science prep - it'll get you into any graduate school in the country in biology or chemistry if you can get through it. Most folks don't, but I was looking through the syllabi, and-" he broke off, aware of Barbara and Dick exchanging a look and suddenly hearing the enthusiasm in his own voice. He hadn't meant to let on...

"So you're thinking about graduate school?" Barbara asked.

"Umm, yeah, I guess."

"Tim."

There was the tiniest hint of the Voice in Dick's tone, compelling Tim to meet the older man's eyes.

"You're excited about this, aren't you?"

Tim felt color rising in his cheeks. "Yes," he said softly.

"Tim, what is this? If you're excited, I'm happy for you. That's really cool. What-"

Tim sighed heavily. "It's just, lately-" he looked into Dick's eyes, faintly desperate, "I think about this stuff, college and everything, and I just -" Tim broke off, dimly aware that Barbara had slowed the Hummer a little and was listening intently as she drove.

"You just-?" Dick prompted.

Tim had not wanted to talk about this, not yet. But it was clear that Dick would not accept an evasion, and Barbara was not above driving them around Bristol for as long as it took to get Tim to spill whatever was on his mind. "I just - I never wanted to be Robin forever," he mumbled, ducking his head, unwilling to face the disappointment he knew would be in Dick's eyes.

There was a moment's silence, then a soft chuckle. "Who would? Even *I* managed to outgrow it."

"But you're still Short Pants to me," Barbara interjected with mock sweetness.

"But," Tim objected, looking up in confusion, "you became Nightwing and-"

"Tim, I haven't got your imagination. I pretty much figured I *would* be Robin forever, until Bruce decided otherwise." There was a hint of old bitterness there, but well softened and accepted. "But I couldn't *not* be out there every night. I don't know how to live if I can't fly." Dick's voice grew distant. "I tried once, for a while. It didn't go well."

Tim noticed Barbara reach out to briefly touch Dick's knee as if to offer comfort, and Tim knew Dick was talking about the time around Bane. They still didn't talk about that time if they could help it.

"My point is," Dick resumed, shaking off the moment's funk, "there's nothing to say you have to stay in the suit, Robin or otherwise."

"But Bruce-"

"Bruce will deal when and if the time comes," Dick pronounced. "Believe it or not, he seems to be growing up."

Tim studied Dick's face, looking for any sign that he might be less than sincere. There was none; Dick meant what he was saying. Tim forced a little smile onto his face. "Really? We should've gotten him a Martian earlier."

Barbara and Dick both laughed, and Tim felt something in him begin to loosen. The others' laughter settled, and he said, "I guess I was thinking, without Robin - I love my dad and everything, but you guys are like my family-"

"Tim," Barbara interrupted sternly, stopping the car short of the gates into the Wayne Estate, "we aren't *like* your family. We *are* your family, kevlar or no. And don't think that ditching the suit will get you out of that."

"Really?" The word slipped out before Tim could stop it.

A wicked grin spread on Dick's face. "Now, Tim," he began reasonably, "if we weren't family, would we GIVE YOU NOOGIES?" Dick stretched out on the final words, managing to get Tim in a headlock and grind his knuckles against the top of his skull.

"Hey!" Tim's muffled shout sounded. "Barbara, make him stop!"

"Dick! Tim! Don't make me stop this car," Barbara warned, laughter in her voice.

"It's already stopped - hey!" Dick jerked back, rubbing his ear where Barbara had gotten in a good whack.

"Don't talk back!" she ordered, and Dick slumped in mock resentment in his seat.

"Yes, *Mom,*" he grumbled.

"Just don't forget who's in charge here," she stated, putting the Hummer back in gear to begin the ascent to the Manor.

Tim caught his breath and smoothed down his hair, but he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. Yeah, he decided, there was definitely something to be said for spending Christmas with family.

end part 7

**********************************

J'onn could feel a sort of pleased pride radiating from Bruce as he rested his cheek on Bruce's knee. He smiled to himself at the image he was sure they presented: the benevolent monarch on his throne, surveying his kingdom, his lover settled on the ground beside him...

Bruce's callused hand smoothed across J'onn's scalp, prompting J'onn to raise his head and turn back to look at him. "You okay?" Bruce asked quietly, a wrinkle of concern briefly marring his expression of leonine contentment.

J'onn smiled and dropped a kiss onto Bruce's knee where his head had been resting. "Never better," he reassured, looking up to meet Bruce's eyes and let him feel his comfortable pleasure. Somewhere behind him, he felt a ripple of emotion that only deepened his smile. Barbara, watching them and feeling the gratification of a deeply hidden sense of romance.

Bruce reached to stroke J'onn's cheek, and J'onn closed his eyes to enjoy the contact. "Not a bad surprise, eh?"

J'onn nodded, turning his head now to join Bruce in perusing the assembled family. They were all dressed in the holiday finest - or rather, dinner finest, J'onn corrected himself, remembering the ball gowns and tuxedos that they all had tucked away - but they were still young people, their youthful exuberance almost contagious as they chattered away and waited for Alfred to signal that the midday feast was ready.

"...so we're giving chase," Gypsy was saying, her face animated and her eyes shining, "and all of sudden I realize the mook is just standing there on the street corner, swearing to beat all and bitching out this other guy, and a black and white is pulling up. Turns out the getaway car got carjacked, and someone called 9-1-1."

"Heh. The best laid plans," Dick remarked. "Bet the cop was almost as surprised as the crook."

"You aren't kidding," Gypsy agreed. "It was like this scene from a bad comedy sketch, everyone just staring at each other like 'what the -'" she shot a glance at Bruce and J'onn, editing her speech. "Anyway, Vibe had the first guy disarmed before anyone could think, and we let the cops take them away."

"Best kind of case," Tim declared. "We had this one with YJ - this group of thugs had hired this meta called - check this out - 'the Big Doof.'"

J'onn managed to keep his face neutrally amused, but Gypsy half-choked on her juice, unable to avoid meeting J'onn's eyes.

Tim hesitated, sensing the overreaction. "What? I mean it's funny, but -"

"Nothing," Gypsy dismissed, still grinning in J'onn's direction. "Go on."

"You know," Bruce put in, entering the conversation for the first time, "I had a case where the Big Doof was involved, too." J'onn felt Bruce's hand on his shoulder, amusement in his tone. "Totally bulloxed that heist, but I somehow couldn't manage to catch him."

Tim looked at Bruce, his brow creased in puzzlement. "Y'know, same thing with us. It was like-" Tim paused, realization dawning, and Barbara burst out in sudden laughter.

"J'onn J'onzz!" she cried out.

J'onn widened his eyes. "What?" he asked innocently, but now Gypsy was laughing again and Cassandra rose to cross to J'onn and clap a hand on his shoulder.

"I take him in now?" she asked, grinning.

J'onn smiled sheepishly and morphed into the form of the Big Doof. "All right," he sighed. "You caught me, fair and square."

Cassandra studied the beefy 'super-villain' for a moment. "You're right," she agreed, "but it is Christmas after all." She patted J'onn's shoulder and returned to her space on the couch.

"Well, that's a relief," Bruce announced. "I've grown rather attached to this big lug."

J'onn turned and batted the Big Doof's eyes flirtatiously at Bruce. "Really?" he asked.

Bruce stared at him and shuddered. "Not *that* attached."

J'onn's laughter joined the others as he morphed back to green and cuddled happily against Bruce's thigh.

"Talk about your Polaroid moments," Gypsy remarked, seeming to mean the Big Doof act but from her expression? Whatever ambivalence she had maintained about J'onn's relationship with Bruce had diminished over the last 24 hours, and the look she sent the contented couple now was one of pure approval.

"Can you see the headlines?" Dick teased. "'Bruce Wayne's Gay Prison Romance!'"

"Ugh! That'd do a number on the society pages," Barbara put in. "Although it might cut down on the aggressive socialites."

"Nah," Tim countered, "it'd just draw out the crazier ones."

"They haven't got a chance," J'onn interjected, wrapping his arms around Bruce's leg and morphing into the leggy form of Jasmina del Marte.

A rumble of laughter sounded from Bruce, and a gentle touch urged J'onn back to his Martian Manhunter form. It was all family here, after all - no day staff to hide from, no press to fool.

"So, Gypsy," Dick began, changing the subject. "what are you up to these days? Heroing wise, I mean." J'onn lifted his head curiously. There was intent behind this question, but it wasn't clear to him what it was.

"Free lance, more or less," Gypsy shrugged. "There's a loose network of heroes in Africa, and we keep tabs on one another in case something big goes down, but mostly folks stay around their home base. Plus in Cairo, I'm close enough to Europe that the crowd there calls me in from time to time."

Dick nodded. "Makes sense. So you think you'd be too busy to add another team?"

Gypsy sat up straighter, and J'onn caught Cassandra giving Dick an approving look. Batgirl was turning into quite the conspirator, he thought, keeping the smile from his features. "I wouldn't say I'm really on a team now," Gypsy clarified carefully, watching Dick's face. "Why?"

"Well, we were having our annual Titans' review last week," Dick explained, "and we realized we've got a couple of glaring weaknesses on the team. Like stealth, for example. I'm good, but I'm not always available, and there are some kinds of infiltrations where you need a different kind of skill - more like Secret or J'onn." Dick offered a nod toward J'onn, and J'onn nodded back in acknowledgement.

"I never thought about that," Tim put in thoughtfully. "I guess I always figured Tempest's magic-"

"Not so great at casting illusions," Dick stated. "It's worked in a pinch. But it's moot anyway, since Tempest is pretty much on reserve status. Between Atlantis and the family-"

"Right," Tim nodded.

"I'm not-" Gypsy started, and J'onn could feel her trepidation. He wanted to reassure her - she was good enough, they would like her, it was a good plan - but he knew she would shrug his words off, not because she didn't believe him, but because she expected him to support what she wanted. She needed to hear from Dick that the Titans wanted her if she was going to do this.

"I checked your file," Dick cut her off. "Your powers have increased."

"Show them," Cassandra urged.

"I-" Gypsy looked around the room at the expectant faces, and when her eyes caught J'onn's, he gave her a faint nod. It was sweet, in a way, this hesitation to show a power that she had practically boasted to him when it had manifest. "Okay," she finally agreed, and in an eyeblink, there were two Cassandras sitting side by side on the couch.

"Whoa!" Tim exclaimed.

"Get J'onn going on that and we could play a shell game," Barbara remarked admiringly. "Will the real Cassandra please stand up?"

Both girls rose to their feet, glanced at each other, and simultaneously began to giggle.

"Oh, my," a new voice said from the doorway.

Gypsy immediately dropped the aspect of Cassandra. "I'm sorry, Alfred."

The butler merely smiled. "No apologies necessary, Miss Gypsy. It gives me ample warning of what new mischiefs our Miss Cassandra might devise." He shot a stern look at Cassandra, who answered with an overwide grin.

"Dinner is ready, incidentally," Alfred continued, "if you'll all reconvene in the dining room."

"Goody!" Tim said, rising to his feet and patting his stomach. "I'm starving."

"Just a second, Tim," Dick forestalled. "I want to hear Gypsy's answer."

"Answer?"

"Would you be interested in joining the Titans? We could work something out so you can stay in Cairo if you like, just report back a couple months a year for team training, be on call..."

Gypsy glanced again at J'onn, and he gave her a go ahead nod, knowing she would understand that he would back whatever decision she made.

"Can I think about it?" she asked.

"Sure," Dick agreed easily, standing up. "I just wanted to make sure the offer was on the table. Shall we go eat?"

Cassandra leapt up. "Yes! I want to open presents!"

J'onn could feel Bruce smiling as Cassandra led the charge from the sitting room, Tim and Gypsy following close behind, their heads together as Tim quizzed Gypsy on her powers. Dick and Barbara followed more sedately, Barbara pacing Dick in her chair, both young people smiling happily. J'onn sat back from Bruce, letting him rise to his feet and then accepting the offered hand that pulled him up into Bruce's arms. "You have," J'onn began, kissing Bruce's lips softly, "a most impressive son."

Bruce beamed and returned J'onn's kiss, releasing him to lead him from the sitting room. "I hope his invitation means we'll be seeing more of your 'daughter.'"

J'onn nodded. "Me, too," he agreed. "This really is the best Christmas gift."

"I did good, then?" Bruce prompted, a gleam in his eye.

J'onn paused in the doorway, halting them both, and leaned down to claim Bruce's mouth more completely, relishing the faint mintiness of mouthwash and the sweet roughness of Bruce's tongue. For a split second he was tempted to join right there, fleetingly reaffirming their commitment, but...

"Aw, guys, come on! Save it for later!" Dick protested, clearly sent to hurry his elders to table.

J'onn reluctantly released Bruce's mouth. "Okay, Dick," he agreed, smiling down into Bruce's eyes. "Yes," he said softly, pressing one more kiss to Bruce's forehead before steering them toward the dining room, "you did good."

end part 8

****************************************

"Oh wow!"

Gypsy turned her head away from her own rather overwhelming stack of presents to see Dick Grayson staring in awe at... a greasy bit of internal machinery?

"J'onn, where on earth did you find this?"

"Christchurch," J'onn answered simply. "A friend of a friend is a motorcycle aficionado. It's a replica part, I'm afraid."

"Doesn't matter," Dick dismissed admiringly. "You can't even get replicas made anymore. I thought I was going to have to juryrig something."

"I think you just made his year," Barbara commented, smiling fondly at the man at her feet.

"Oh my god, yes!" Dick agreed. "Thanks, J'onn!"

Gypsy watched the slow, pleased smile that unfolded across J'onn's face. She was seeing a lot of that smile this visit - more than she remembered seeing it before.

"You're welcome," J'onn acknowledged, floating serenely above his own collection of gifts.

Gypsy had felt self-conscious about the bounty that seemed to overwhelm even the generous tree that graced the Wayne Manor main hall. Her budget - and the weight restrictions on her flight - would not allow for such extravagant gifts as whatever was in the head-high box next to Cassandra. Her collection of stocking stuffers seemed woefully inadequate when present after present appeared with her name on them.

Cassandra had reassured her on Christmas Eve as they watched in wide-eyed wonder as Bruce and J'onn unloaded dozens of packages from the Bentley, but still...

"Miss Gypsy!" Alfred's voice came from behind her. "How did you know?"

She turned her head to find that Alfred had unwrapped the collection of market spices that she had smuggled through customs, things she knew would be hard to find or painfully expensive (at least to a non-Wayne) in the States. Gypsy shrugged, caught between being pleased and embarrassed at the sudden attention. "Bruce always mentions your cooking when he and J'onn visit," she explained. "I just figured..."

"Well, you figured correctly, young lady," Alfred declared, his eyes eagerly studying the various bags and bottles. "What a marvelous gift!"

An elbow to her ribs got her attention, and Gypsy saw that Cassandra was grinning at her. "See?" she whispered. "Little presents are GOOD."

"Bruce!" Tim was suddenly objecting. "You did NOT just figure that out two seconds out of the box."

A faint upturn of the lips shifted Bruce's expression as he tossed the puzzle in his hands to Tim. It wasn't the lightest toss, but Tim reacted more or less instantly, catching it and commencing his examination in one fluid motion. So strange, Gypsy considered, to be in the presence of so many heroes, their other lives only evident by an unexpected fluidity of motion, an almost unconscious readiness for anything - and of course the unremarked presence of a large green alien in their midst. Odd to feel regarded as a *part* of it, even if she wasn't quite sure she felt ready for it yet. It had been so long...

"You know this took me two hours to figure out," Tim complained. "I thought I finally had one that would get you..."

"Loan it to Dick," Barbara suggested, laughter in her tone. "He'll find a way to drop it in the Sprang River on patrol before he solves it."

"Babs!" Dick protested. "That was years ago! And an accident."

"Uhn-huhn," Barbara murmured knowingly.

They were so easy together - and so different from the way she imagined the Batclan at home.

*You imagined me shacked up with Batman in a cave?* a teasing thought came through to her, and she bit back a smile.

*Maybe,* she confessed.

"Gypsy," Bruce interrupted, and for a split second she wondered if he realized she and J'onn were having a private tete-a-tete. "You haven't opened my gift."

She gave him a startled look. "I thought - you flew me here - that -"

"That was just Bruce getting his way," Barbara put in dismissively. "See what he got you."

Gypsy watched Bruce for some reaction to Barbara's remark, but he seemed unconcerned. She glanced anxiously at J'onn, who gave a wry smile. "I think bringing you here was a present for me," he explained, "or maybe just a way to get me to promise to spend the whole holiday in Gotham." He glanced coyly toward Bruce, who still seemed untroubled by the questioning of his motives. "Go ahead and open the present," J'onn urged.

Gypsy picked up the small, cubic box that had been overlooked in the pile of clothing boxes and larger packages and began peeling away the paper, acutely aware that she had become the center of attention with this gesture. How long had they been waiting for her to find this?

The paper came away to reveal a watch box which held exactly what it promised: a watch. A silver, bangle-y type timepiece, inlaid with... little bats?

She looked up at Bruce questioningly.

A satisfied smile was curling the corners of his lips. "Press the one closest to six o'clock."

She obeyed, and the watch gave a slight vibration in her fingers and the onyx of the face became a midnight blue.

"That activates the tracer if you ever get in trouble. You can turn it off by tapping it and the one near twelve simultaneously. The twelve o'clock will remotely connect to your old JLA communicator - it'll work with a Titans' communicator, too - and open up a direct line to our network."

Gypsy blinked. "Your network -"

"You're family now, Gypsy," Bruce explained. "We can't have you out of the communications loop."

Gypsy stared down at the watch, disengaging the tracer and watching the face of the timepiece fade back to black. She sensed a sort of breathlessness in the room around her as she digested Bruce's words.

"You can call me on patrol," Cassandra finally burst out. "We make fun of Tim."

"Hey!" Tim protested.

"Hazards of being the youngest," Dick mock-sympathized.

"They'd pick on you, Sweetheart, but you're too easy," Barbara consoled.

"Heh - hey! Wait a minute!"

"See?" Barbara observed for the others.

Gypsy only half-listened to this exchange, still studying the watch. She was dimly aware of the conversation petering out, then Alfred asked, "Miss Gypsy?"

Gypsy looked around and then rose to her feet, intensifying the growing silence. She picked her way through discarded boxes and wrapping paper, weaving through a maze that led her to the chair Bruce occupied. He watched her steadily, his eyes carefully neutral.

Finally she stopped to one side of his chair and took a deep breath. "Mr. Wayne - Bruce," she corrected. She thought she could hear the filaments sparking on the Christmas tree lights over the hush in the room.

She looked once more at the watch in her hand, then swiftly, before she lost her nerve, she leaned over to kiss Bruce's cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.

She stepped back in time to witness the pleased surprise that briefly flooded Bruce's face, and a quick glance at J'onn revealed that the Martian was beaming at both of them, quite possibly happier than she had ever seen him.

"Well, let's see how it looks, then," Barbara ordered as Gypsy slipped the bangle over her hand and broke the spell over the room.

"Pretty," Cassandra noted critically. "Fits your look."

"Another in a fine line of Bat Accessories, TM," Dick added. "Cufflinks to brooches, comm gear for any occasion."

"And man, that brooch looks good on you," Tim quipped.

"Oh, yeah?" Dick challenged, taking a swipe at Tim and initiating some good natured wrestling.

"Gentlemen!" Alfred barked. "Take that behavior downstairs."

"Cool!" Tim cried, already pulling off his tie as he raced down the hall, Dick in hot pursuit.

Gypsy stared after them, startled at the sudden exuberance. She caught Alfred's eye as he shook his head fondly and tsked after the two young men. "I did try to instill manners," he rued, smiling at Gypsy. "Perhaps another lady in the family will help curb them. Welcome, Miss Gypsy."

Gypsy smiled shyly, feeling honored and suddenly very much a part of this bizarre gathering. Then Cassandra had her by the hand and was half-pulling her after Dick and Tim. "Come on," she urged. "Alfred said they need curbing. We get them in line."

A laugh rolled out from those remaining in the family room, and she hung back only long enough to feel J'onn's gentle encouragement.

"Remind Dick he's got to work at four," Barbara's voice trailed after them, and Gypsy found herself laughing as she raced down to the Cave, for the first time in a long time a part of family again.

end

 


End file.
